Journey's End

Chapter Twenty-Five

Journey's End

There was no keeping them out Jon knew as he stood solidly in the keep's courtyard looking out through the broken remains of the once sturdy gate Wun-Wun had battered open; it was a boon then, but it was proving to be a detriment now. Jon had sent runners as he'd suited up in leathered armor, gauntlets, and cloak; his Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, lay ready at his hip for another fight if the Umbers so wished it. Soldiers from the north and beyond the wall alike had been roused by the winding horn causing all that still milled about the grounds to start moving with purpose, suiting up, and readying their weapons for battle. Archers quickly made their way up the sides of the castle positioning themselves on the wall to prepare to shower a deadly wave of arrows at the entrance as the scouts Jon had sent out to meet Sansa barreled through the opening and headed straight over to where Jon stood.

The first man to reach him tugged violently on his horse's reins sending the beast whinnying with a balk to stop inches from Jon. Once the horse was under control, the man barked out fearfully, "There's too many to count, my lord! We tried to make it back to warn you, but one of their lookouts… they saw our fire by the roadside before we could snuff it out. I'm sorry!"

Jon's eyes were wild as they scanned back to see how much further away the Umbers were before switching his attention back to the scout as he yelled, "And my sister… did they have her?"

The man merely looked confused momentarily before shrugging and shaking his head simultaneously, "I… I don't know, my lord; I didn't see her!"

Jon turned to stare at the second scout who had come to a halt beside his companion, but the man only shook his head no before Jon could ask the same of him. Having heard all the news the two men could grant him, Jon gave a small nod of dismissal, and the two men cleared out leaving an unobstructed view of the gateway's opening as a line of riders bearing the Umber's flag trotted up to the opening and halted to await their lords' and lady's arrival.

Jon's heart thrummed in his ears as the shouting within the keep rose into a raucous clamor regarding the army's approach. Many of his men were now suited with weapons drawn and standing at the ready beside Jon as they funneled protectively around him and into a guarded stance. If the Umbers held Sansa captive, Jon had no real answer for them. Half of his army lay dead or too wounded to fight, and the knights of the Vale had taken up residence for the winter in Moat Cailin much too far away to get any help from them. It was a terrible disadvantage, but there was nothing more to be done, so Jon clenched his jaw in worried anticipation as he rigidly awaited the Umbers' arrival and the news they heralded.

…*****************************************************

The horses panted audibly in strained snorts as the small group galloped at breakneck speeds to make ground and ascertain just what had become of Winterfell in their absence. Sansa's heart was racing as fast as that of her horse; she worried about her home and the people that she was too far away from to know if they were okay. Surprisingly, Sansa discovered that her own group was not as far from the approaching forces as that which she'd assumed.

Tormund held up a hand to halt their progress much to the confusion of the others until he spoke, and they observed, "Do you hear that?" The party was silent save the horses heaving to catch their breath, and it was then that the sound of a procession of riders could be heard faintly trotting off into the distance. Having this news, the group cautiously rode forward until they physically spotted the cavalry and foot soldiers; it was an immediate relief to see that they were not marching back from Winterfell but towards it. There was still time to act; whether it was time enough to do something or merely be a bystander to carnage remained to be seen.

The assembled troupe was still about twenty minutes from their intended destination to meet up with the rest of their lagging party; it would take the others some time to cover their tracks and the carriage from sight, so they would not be able to join them in time to make a difference if they were to wait for their arrival. To know they would be able to keep tabs on the band of mysterious riders and perhaps surpass them in reaching Winterfell had changed much. Sansa had expected that her band would have arrived long after this force had travelled to her home and done what they set out to do, but to know that they were closing in on the legion before it'd reached Winterfell set her mind in a flurry of opportunities yet to enact. She was no tactician though, so she turned her gaze to one whom she knew was, "Ser Davos, what should we do?"

Davos' gaze moved around the circle of his companions noting that all eyes had come to rest on him. He squared his jaw reflecting on what they knew and what they didn't before finally responding, "We might be able to make it back to Winterfell before this army, but you may wish to stay behind, Lady Sansa. If we aren't careful, they could spot us, and if we are compromised…" his gaze fell gravely on Sansa, "…it could gain these interlopers an edge against your brother."

Sansa lifted her chin regally, "Then I would suggest we stay well out of sight. Forgive my harsh words Ser Davos, but I'm sick of running and waiting for something to happen. If I am to be a true protector of the North, as is my duty to hold the Stark name, I cannot bury my head in the sand wondering what has become of my home while others fight my battles for me."

Davos gave Sansa a slow nod, "Fair enough. It's settled then, if this is the course we will take, then we need to find a way to move well around these men and get back to the castle first. This is your home, my Lady; of all of us, you would be the best to decide on the most effective route to travel."

Sansa considered where they were and how best to keep from being discovered. The fear she now felt coursing through her made the blood drain from her face, but she kept a calm façade as she informed her attendants, "My guess is that this army will likely continue straight down the King's Road to the East Gate entrance. Our best chance will be to take a trail less travelled that leads to the outskirts of Winter Town. We can exit the hillside and travel along the keep's wall to the North Gate where there is an underground passageway to the crypt hidden in the rubble by the broken tower. Stark ancestors created it as a secret escape should our house ever come under siege. We can use it to gain discreet access to the castle, hopefully before this army has a chance to make their move."

Tormund chuckled, "We need to act now if we are going to get far enough ahead of these cunts."

"Agreed," Sansa announced turning to the two other soldiers that had ridden with her, Davos, Tormund, Brienne, and Poddrick, "Wait here for the others and continue to Cater's farm as planned. Tell them of what we propose to do and linger long enough for this army to leave Winterfell by way of the King's Road before you return. If we are captured, I want my brother to know what had become of me."

The two soldiers nodded an affirmative and the small band fractured as Sansa and her core group barreled off towards the keep and the two remaining soldiers followed their Lady's command to remain and meet up with the rest of their men still in route.

The cavalry and foot soldiers were travelling at a relaxed clip, but the quintet that continued on still had to ride their horses to the brink of collapse in order to weave around the army and avoid detection. It took veering off of the well-worn King's Road and over to the outer edge of the Wolfswood, where the low rise hills obscured them from view well enough to pass the convoy. They were semi-exposed for a fraction of the time, but it was a calculated risk they had to take. Thankfully the invaders were not watching for lookouts as they passed by. Retreat into the Wolfswood itself for a better vantage of stealth would have been ideal, but it wasn't plausible. Any time advantage gained would have been lost to the maneuvering of their horses through the wooded terrain.

The party rode hard across the expanse only daring to slow to give their horses a chance to recoup once they were well past the approaching riders. They did not stop though, and having surpassed the great odds that they may be spotted and possibly captured, Tormund announced heartily, "It's a wonder my people hadn't crossed the wall to settle these lands sooner; you fuckers in the North are oblivious!" The group shared smiles and soft chuckles at Tormund's sarcastic joke feeling well the relief in his statement that they could calm a little. They weren't safe by any means, but their morale had been significantly lifted to see Winterfell's keep coming into view. Sansa inhaled deeply thinking that she was never as grateful as she was right now to know she was almost home.

…*****************************************************

Jon wore a firm frown watching the Umbers assemble at the entrance of the castle until he felt a heavy hand give his shoulder a jovial slap. His eyes widened in surprise darting to his side to see who would dare approach him in such a way at the onset of a soon to be parlay. Jon's face immediately erupted into a smile to see the gruff grin of his redheaded alley. Tormund nodded at Jon's recognition, "I see we made it back just in time for the festivities."

Jon turned back to see the crowd parting and Sansa and the others striding towards him with triumphant smiles; he breathed an exhale of relief as the dread Jon had felt wondering about Sansa's safety melted away. "It's good to see you," Jon remarked with a heartfelt timbre.

Sansa beamed a smile confidently in his direction as she moved to his side to place a hand on his which was still tightly gripping the hilt of his sword, "I would wish to give you a proper embrace, but…" her vision shifted to the gate, "I see we have company." Jon's eyes followed her gaze as he gave an affirmative nod taking the initiative now to begin walking assertively forward towards their unexpected guests. His expression once more denoted his serious nature, and Sansa trailed boldly beside him with an equally stony mien.

Lord Lamor clamored forward to cross the gate's opening on a Clydesdale fit to bear the large man's weight. He was flanked by his equally large siblings Jareth and Matina who casually looked about the forces displayed in front of them as if assessing their ability to take the keep. Although the soldiers that trotted in beside the nobles bore white peace banners to state the intent of this meeting was a parlay, the stance of the Umbers and the scowls painted firmly on their faces suggested that they could care less if this were to be a civil discourse.

Sansa was the first to speak as the two moved within a few feet of the Umbers much to Jon's surprise who had prepared to begin the parlay. Her voice was crisp and direct as she glared daggers at them, "To what do we owe the unexpected arrival of those sworn against House Stark?" Sansa exuded an ember of agitation having recognized promptly their house's flag had flown on the opposite side of the battlefield.

All three nobles now starred down at the Starks with menacing grins. The air felt thick with tension, so much so, Jon felt a reflexive need to take a protective step forward as he added, "We have lost much on both sides, but I see that your banner men carry flags of treaty. In respect, I would ask what it is that you wish to speak on."

Lord Lamor's nostrils flared as he let go of a guttural chortle, "I've heard tales of the brass balls your sister possesses, and I can see the rumors may hold some truth to them."

Matina followed her brother's words with a condescending chuckle as she stared down at Sansa looking clearly unimpressed by the woman's comparatively smaller frame than her own stout form. Lady Matina was not like most noble women that wore dresses and proper composures choosing instead to wear a grimace and battlement leathers with steeled armor like that of her present kin. Having been the middle child with one sister and many rough and tumble brothers, she'd grown up, as many of the other nobles would whisper in private company, rather brutish (not unlike most of the youngest Umber nobles.) The fact that she was thick framed only had helped to cement to her a need to lay claim to an aura of intimidation, an attribute where looks had clearly failed her.

Sansa found herself bristling as the two shared a heated glare. The woman offended her even though she'd not said a word, Lady Matina hadn't needed to as her posture spoke intent far more plainly than prettily exchanged barbs. Her eyes bore into Sansa now in a visible effort to make her uncomfortable. The woman was manish, but unlike Brienne held no stance of nobility as she slumped forward in a hunched bored fashion making it quite obvious she held no desire to be present for these talks let alone held respect for House Stark. It took all Sansa's effort to pry her gaze from Lady Matina to address Lord Lamor's comment. She straightened lifting her chin to direct her attention back to him and away from his leering sister, "I stand before you now not as a rumor but as Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell and wardeness of the North. We have retaken our home where you sought to defend those that had wrongfully usurped it, tell me now why I should not have you beheaded for treason in front of all houses that have united once more under our banners."

Lord Lamor's grin practically split his face as he rumbled with patronizing laughter, "Ah yes, a whole lot of heads rolling I've heard. No wait a minute, that's not what I've heard at all! I've actually heard lots of other rumors about what exactly you deign to do to your enemies, Lady Stark, but let us not speak on rumors and focus instead on the facts. We didn't come here to piss in the wind. We could have come to fight, and if we did, we might be an even match… perhaps even at a disadvantage I'll be kind enough to give you being this is your home and all. It doesn't right matter as fighting at this juncture does neither of us any good. Winter is upon us; let's not leave each other's company at odds. We've got too much to offer the other by standing together over apart wouldn't you agree?"

Jon cleared his throat asking inquisitively, "Have you come to claim fealty then?" He was relieved to hear that the Umbers did in fact want to make an effort to make amends although the friction Sansa was creating wasn't helping turn the discussion into an amiable one. Thankfully she said nothing more, but her glare and pursed lips relayed exactly how she was feeling.

Jareth spoke up now as he cursed in disgust, "Fuck taking a knee to these twats! We don't need em' Lamor. What the hell do they got other than a handful of weak houses nipping at their heels?"

"Shut your fucking trap!" Lord Lamor growled harshly at his brother whose horse staggered backward at the overbearing tone the eldest Umber carried. The youngest didn't respond, but the glare shared between the two held a static of its own. Lord Lamor turned back to focus on the Starks smiling once more, "Forgive my brother Jareth, it's been a long ride. His words were not elegant, but I mirror his sentiment that we didn't come here to beg forgiveness for the choices our brother made or add our people to your ranks. We did however come here to tell you that we would prefer to walk away from one another with no ill will."

"We want our brother's body," Lady Matina added brusquely, and Lord Lamor glanced her way nodding as he turned back to Jon and Sansa, "My sister speaks out of turn, but truly. We will take our dead and intern them on our lands where they belong."

Jon nodded, "That's a reasonable request. No one should deny the right to properly mourn one's kin. I…" Sansa cut him off as she announced harshly, "Their bodies still lay in the field buried in the snow; please collect them and leave our home. We will not hold a grudge against your house as we have a right to, but that does not mean that we are friends."

Lord Lamor smirked, "Aye, I suppose that's fair enough." He looked to either side taking in his siblings as he stated coolly, "We're done here then." He brought his gaze up once more to Jon and Sansa his smile reflecting an underlying threat as he rounded his horse to depart, "Many blessings and good tidings, House Stark."

Jon and Sansa silently watched as the legion retreated briskly and galloped towards the field that still bore burnt remnants of pyres where others had burned their own dead. With the winter upon them and so many in need of aide, it was a work in progress that Jon was now thankful he'd held as a lower priority to expending efforts in helping the wounded. If they had burned all of the remaining unclaimed bodies as they would have once the snow had let up and his injured were stabilized enough to have sent able bodies to the task, the tail end of this conversation could have ended on an even sourer note than it had.

Jon breathed a great intake of air visibly relaxing as he turned to look over at Sansa whose eyes still followed the Umbers trek like that of a hawk bearing down on a field mouse. Her features were grim, and she'd not relaxed on iota since their departure. He frowned at her now that the threat was seemingly waning into the distance and lectured low enough for only the two of them to hear, "What was that? Were you trying to start a war? I was worried that I was going to have to undermine you if you did not contain yourself."

Sansa's eyes flicked dangerously over to take Jon's expression in, and for a moment it looked as though her face was about to harden in anger, but instead, Sansa ingested Jon's worry, and her eyes softened as she apologized, "I reacted severely. I'm sorry. It took all that we had just to get here ahead of their army, and when I saw them staring down at us… like we were of so little consequence… I… I should have let you speak. You're better suited to it I think."

Jon's brow relaxed and his eyes reflected that puppy dog pout that all the girls fawned over, and Sansa couldn't help but to smirk, "Admit it. You wanted to say it too didn't you?" Jon found his own lip curling to bear a small smile as he answered, "Perhaps. What's done is done, but in the future promise me that you will stay a bit more neutral in the face of possible enemies?"

Sansa took a step towards Jon now wrapping her arms around him to which he followed suit embracing her to his chest tightly. "I promise," Sansa ensured a moment later, and Jon hugged her more tightly in response as he added, "I'm glad you're home. Come, let's get you inside. There's someone that I'm more than certain will be happy to see you've returned safely."

…*****************************************************

Ramsay hadn't stopped pacing agitatedly from one end of the dungeon to the other wholly hating that he was left in the dark having been whisked off to stay hidden away until any hostilities were attended to like that of the infirm or very young or worse like some coward shaking in their boots. He grit his teeth at the thought giving Cecil and Temeric a glare as if they had given him such branding just by keeping him down here. Ramsay growled his annoyance, "How long are we going to just stand here? Will you wait while the enemy raids these halls and skewers you through the backs? We're of no use down here; we should at least have eyes on what is happening out there!"

Temeric was frowning; he wasn't fond of standing down here waiting to hear back about the unknown confrontation either, but he was also well aware that Ramsay's presence would not only be unhelpful but also could cause an uproar if the Umbers spotted him and still considered him an alley. He replied gruffly, "We need to obey orders. We'll not leave this post until given direction to."

Always more on the nervous side when things got edgy, Cecil suggested, "Why don't we play a bit o Alquerques? It'll take your mind off of what's going on out there."

Ramsay scoffed, "By the old gods, are you daft?" He snorted shaking his head in disbelief, "I can't believe you're stupid enough to suggest we play games when by the end of whatever is happening out there may lead to your head lanced on a pike and displayed as wall décor." Cecil blanched surprised at the abrasive manner that Ramsay directed his way.

"Hey now, enough of that, Ramsay. If you can't speak to us properly, we can always lock you down to your bed and stand outside," Temeric piped in hotly to show Ramsay's cruel words towards Cecil weren't going to be tolerated. This was bolder than Ramsay had acted in a while, and Temeric would have normally let such rudeness go with a chiding rather than a threat, but with the added stress of the situation they were enduring, Ramsay's words were getting under his own skin as the fear of what could happen settled in the room like a ghost permeating the atmosphere.

Ramsay glowered at Temeric unapologetically but was wise enough to see that his pushing of limits and harsh comments weren't helping his cause. It didn't stop the roiling wave of worry that was coursing through him to wonder what would happen if the keep erupted in bloodshed. If all of the Starks' men were slaughtered, Jon included, would they spare him, or would his body be thrown upon a tower of mounting dead? Worse, what would happen to Sansa when she returned to Winterfell to see her home ransacked and whatever other atrocities may befall those that still remained here now? Ramsay felt sickened by the prospects and a building rage to the thoughts of what the Umbers might do to her. It was maddening and terrifying to think that there was absolutely nothing in his power he could do for her if this derailed horror he was building within his mind's eye were to actually play out. He held no power anymore, he couldn't protect himself; how could he protect Sansa when he didn't even have a clue where she'd gone?

He'd been so lost in these awful scenarios that he'd failed to notice the faint soft click of her heeled boots on the cobblestoned floor. It wasn't until the audible groan of the heavy door annunciated a breech into the room did Ramsay stop in mid-pace eyes wide and expectant to take in what would greet them. He dully thought to look for a makeshift weapon in the seconds of time that passed, but when he saw who was standing in the doorway, his thoughts halted and an overwhelming bloom of elation washed over him, a tidal wave of emotion that left his chest to heave in relief, "Sansa? Lady Sansa! You… you're home!"

Sansa rewarded him with a small smile as she entered the dungeon looking him over. She was pleased to see him too stating softly, "Ramsay." She strode forward, and he quickly moved to meet her his eyes searching and half expecting that if he were to blink that she would disappear from his sight. Sansa took in his concern reaching out a hand to gently cup his cheek running her thumb over the thick stubble that had taken over his face, "I will have to scold Jon that he did not take good care of you in my absence. You are in dire need of a shave, dear husband."

Ramsay's eyes fluttered as he immediately leaned into her touch feeling instantaneously electrified as he breathed out in a constrained utterance, "I've missed you terribly."

The heat and flush of his skin upon contact accompanied by his words created a shiver of goosebumps to ripple across her flesh; she missed him terribly too. She took a step closer, and his breath hitched as she laid a gentle kiss on his forehead and whispered, "Have you now." Her other hand pushed strands of hair behind his ear drifting down to wrap possessively on to the nape of Ramsay's neck bringing their bodies to such a close proximity she could feel his chest rising and melding into her own. She grew wet to hear him let go a barely audible whimper as she brought her lips down to kiss his earlobe and to feel an immediate erection pulse to life against her thigh. Sansa murmured playfully, "Are you sure?"

Ramsay only nodded lightly into her; swallowing hard as a mixture of desires flourished within him as his senses took in her heartbeat and her scent. His eyes darted about lost in the curvature of her slender neck and fiery tendrils of her hair as he remained rigidly still unsure whether or not he could hold her now even though he wanted to badly. As if sensing this need within him, Sansa's hand that had cupped his cheek maneuvered down his neck and shoulder to brace at the middle of his back and pulled him flat against her into a hug, and Ramsay in turn timidly let his own arms cradle around her waist laying his forehead on her chest. He closed his eyes instantly relaxing into her embrace.

Smiling, Sansa gently planted small kisses onto the top of Ramsay's head feeling a warmth blossom inside of her as he constricted his arms around her more securely the more attention she poured upon him. Thoughts of the affection he'd been denied cropped in the recesses of her mind to feel his need now, and it made her heart ache as she clutched him a little more firmly.

He could stay in this moment forever, but the longer he held onto Sansa the more fear crept within Ramsay that he could lose her until finally he released his hold and took a step back to stare up at her in wonder as he asked, "Jon and I… we saw riders for House Umber approaching… what happened?"

Sansa was silent a long moment studying Ramsay's features and deciding she enjoyed the small wrinkles that became well pronounced in the middle of his brow whenever he became concerned as she answered in an aloof fashion, "We have spoken, they will gather their dead and return home."

This answer didn't satiate Ramsay, and he prodded with a chuckle, "Wait… just like that? They had nothing else to say?" Sansa lifted a brow at Ramsay's newfound boldness as she replied, "Just like that. If they had anything else to say, and I wished to share it with you, I would. Try not to worry on affairs that do not concern you."

Ramsay hadn't expected Sansa to shut him down so thoroughly, and a rush of testiness rolled through him as he scowled. His feelings were quite visibly noticed, and Sansa's expression swiftly darkened as she clipped, "That isn't going to be a problem is it?"

Ramsay's frown deepened as his eyes sought the floor now knowing it would be a challenge of her authority to debate, and with everything else he would need to answer to in short order, Ramsay considered this argument not to be worth destroying the pleasantness they'd just shared, so he muttered out a deflated, "…no."

Sansa stared at Ramsay's bowed head, and whereas before she would have made him annunciate his answer to her, she sensed the struggle within him was great enough without her prodding him. Instead she brought her hand back up to caress the side of his face lifting his chin gently to take in his small pout and wide blue eyes that shot her a cool stare. He wanted to remain angry with her, but looking back at Sansa bearing a soft smile directed at him shook his priorities back to moments before where she'd held him and the want to feel her pressed against him once more. Ramsay blinked as his etched brow softened and his eyes locked on hers.

Sansa's smile grew, "I'm having a bath drawn in the master chambers. It's big enough for the both of us," her grin turned mischievous, and Ramsay found himself licking his lips as he took in the possibilities that such words brought to mind. Her eyes were have lidded now, and from previous experience, Ramsay knew when she gazed at him in such a way that she was aroused which in turn radiated a counter reaction of arousal in him. Sansa leaned forward then to plant a tender kiss on Ramsay's temple before she drew her hand back from him and announced, "A servant will come in to give you a clean shave," she glanced at Temeric and Cecil who stood now at either side of the door looking off in the distance so as not to pry into their Lady's affairs. Sensing that Sansa had turned her attention to them, the two men straightened and did their best to set an aura of attentive guards. She smiled inwardly thinking the two were perfect, and that Jon had chosen well in them. Once she had their full attention, Sansa purred, "When the servant has finished with Ramsay, I wish for you to bring him to my chambers immediately." As she said this, she turned back to glance at Ramsay once more with a flash of devious intent that had his breath catching in his throat as he numbly watched her exit.